I’ve been having this dream for at least a year. Probably more, but it is now extremely vivid. As best I can tell, I’m dreaming this dream almost daily/nightly:
The environment changes from my home to bombed-out housing. It looks like projects – council flats – one after another in a geometric form. Everything has angles. Once in a while, there’s an old man or woman who asks me in and makes me tea. Despite their poverty, their homes have dignity.
Out of nothing is a Palace. The tea makes me feel strong, but I still pick my teeth out one at a time and leave them near the sink. I wash them off and line them up, but do not count them. My teeth.
None of this matters! There was a house. It had all of our friends. It was a nice house. I slept there, with you. I lined my teeth up by the sink. You were shouting at me about the bad man at Denny’s.
I still wake up, fingers in my mouth, counting my teeth